Genie in a Bottle
by exordia
Summary: Akashi, when drunk and drugged, is a completely different story.


**Title: **Genie in a Bottle

**Summary: **Akashi, when drunk and drugged, is a completely different story.

* * *

"Fuck me," Akashi slurs. Furihata simply sighs, the arm around his shoulder too heavy for his liking. Normally, Akashi rejects offers of liquor at the bachelor parties that he's invited to, but tonight happens to be the evening on which Akashi abandons all forms of rationale and chugs down multiple glasses of beer, wine, and whatever substances that manage to make him throw up.

Although burdened by the task of bringing Akashi home, Furihata secretly basks in the glory of witnessing Akashi's vulnerability. There's something almost adorable about the way Akashi mumbles nonsense in between hiccups. Furihata isn't a social butterfly himself; but going to the party definitely rewarded him with a spectacle that he'll never let Akashi live down, even if the latter does threaten him with his kingly status and emperor eyes.

"_Kouuuki,_" the redhead drawls out, arms still guided by an amused (and blushing) Furihata. "Did I stutter?"

"Kind of," Furihata replies, muffling his laughter with his free hand. The other is on Akashi's hip. Just a few blocks more, and the embarrassment for the both of them will be over. Furihata isn't _exactly _humiliated by the thought of having to drag his tipsy friend to his house in the middle of the night. The close proximity of Akashi's slightest huffs distract him from getting the directions right. Months ago, Furihata wouldn't have had the audacity to stand even a few feet away from Akashi in fear of being chucked scissors at. Weeks ago, however, Furihata proved his worth by rising as Seirin's underdog and defeating Rakuzan with a series of three pointers that nobody had expected to come from a boy who shivered at the sight of his opponents.

Akashi always welcomes challenges, and Furihata is grateful that he even stood a chance.

Furihata is familiar with Akashi's residence. He abides in the tenth floor, owning a three bedroom condominium that he doesn't really use for get-togethers. Furihata had entered it thrice already: once when Akashi demanded to have a cup of coffee over the subject of basketball, the second time when the miracles decided to surprise Akashi for his birthday (and failed, according to Akashi's stoicism), and the third, when Furihata severely injured his knee and Akashi called for a private checkup.

After stepping out of the elevator, Furihata easily locates the condominium number even with a disgruntled baggage hanging from his arm. The brunet kicks the door open, silently apologizing to a possibly furious Akashi in the morning. The master bedroom is the first on the right, and before he can put Akashi to sleep, he flicks on the lights.

"Turn," Akashi says drowsily, "it off."

Only then does Furihata realize that the sleeve of his shirt is ridiculously wet — he glances at Akashi eagle-spread on the mattress, sweating profusely.

It's twenty degrees in the room, coupled with the breeze of the air conditioner. For Furihata, this is _not _warm at all.

Then why the hell is Akashi soaked in perspiration?

And why in the world does Furihata find this sight of a wet Akashi excessively stimulating _and_ sexy?

Furihata shakes his head of wanton thoughts with his face visibly reddening. Akashi gasps and twists on the bed, bothered by something invisible. It's as if someone has held him in a leash. "_Kouuuuuki_."

"Crap," Furihata hastily mutters. This is one of the rare occasions that Furihata can swear outwardly. Akashi is terribly sick for him to show weakness like this. Still worried that Akashi might develop pneumonia from sweating, Furihata dives for the closet, searching for a comfortable pair of pajamas. Akashi has none — only long-sleeved shirts that ought to be for businessmen. Furihata gives up and deems one shirt and sweatpants an agreeable outfit for slumber.

Only problem left: getting Akashi out of his clothes and into new ones — all without his own composure crumbling under Akashi's suggestive tones and body language.

Wrestling seems like a good idea for Furihata, and he knows that in this state, Akashi won't be able to combat the tactics of a point guard. Counting to three, Furihata flops on the bed, armed with a bunch of clothing in his hands. He manages to land smack on Akashi's nether regions, and the redhead wriggles underneath. "_Hnnn._"

Furihata has to bite his wrist to keep from screaming and flailing. "A-aka- Sei, y-you have to change, or else you...you'll..."

He has no chance of continuing his sentence with the seemingly lewd expressions fleeting across Akashi's face. Furihata's caught in a terribly awkward position, and then he notices Akashi _grinding _against his ass. "_A-ahh —_"

Sober Akashi would _never _do these inappropriate actions — even Furihata could say that Akashi isn't the type to have sexual drives for friends, if Furihata is to be considered as one.

It all clicks after horrifying minutes of Akashi gasping underneath Furihata, and the latter could only widen his eyes at the revelation. "D-don't tell me..."

Akashi, bleary-eyed, chokes out, "Kouki, _now._ _Please._"

Somebody must have drugged him at the party, eager to get into Akashi's pants without his permission. Of course.

"W-what?" Furihata stammers, and he notices that he's discarded the clothes he's supposed to be putting on Akashi on the floor. He _knows _what Akashi needs, but is too afraid to confirm it himself by initiative. Besides, he's a damn virgin with no experiences with either gender. "What do you want, Sei?"

"I told you," Akashi manages to say with a shudder. "_Fuck me._"

Furihata's remaining salvation is the memory of Kagami's undeleted history of 'research' for his and Kuroko's benefits, which the brunet had the lamest luck to stumble across. Going with instinct, Furihata leans in cautiously at first, whispering, "You have _no idea _how much I've been craving for this."

Apparently, Akashi has grown too impatient, so he uses his hands to force Furihata down. Their lips smash against each other painfully, but the stinging subsides when Akashi swipes his tongue over Furihata's mouth. All Furihata can do in a daze is increase his grip on Akashi's hips until he soon follows the mechanics of making out. He thinks that it's unfair how Akashi gets to dominate him even when he's under and makes up for it by doing a particular roll of his tongue across the roof of Akashi's mouth that sends the redhead moaning.

Furihata has partially understood by now. Akashi's taste is too addictive, but he has to break away to breathe. He pants, admiring the stream of saliva that connects him to Akashi. He's quite proud of himself for being the only one who can do these things to Akashi, and with his resolve built with iron, he goes for Akashi's neck, biting and bruising along the way down. Akashi gasps, but not without biting his lips to reduce his noise. "_Nnn —_"

With newfound bravery, Furihata licks on the shell of Akashi's ear, sensing him shiver. "Hm? Don't hold back, Sei. Your voice sounds really enticing when you're like that."

Furihata raises Akashi's shirt in the fastest possible manner, intoxicated by the view of pale skin, smooth arms, and hardened nubs. He shoves the shirt into someplace he couldn't see. Akashi Seijuuro is too perfect for his own good, and without a doubt, Furihata has to deal with a lot of competition for Akashi's hand. For now, he'll enjoy and mark Akashi as his. The brunet lowers himself down on Akashi's pert nipples. Experimentally, he sucks on one of them.

"A-_ah!_"

Akashi, at the sudden contact, throws his head back and narrowly misses the headboard. Furihata doesn't cease from swiping his tongue across the bud, biting occasionally while teasing the other with his fingers. Although they're both males, Akashi is aroused by ministrations in his pectoral region. How interesting. Furihata ends it with a kiss, and looks up at Akashi. His breaths are rapid, but he looks like he wants Furihata to go on.

Furihata sways under Akashi's will, peppering Akashi's stomach with kisses, and at last reaching his destination. He can't deny that his cowardice is returning, but the bulge on Akashi's jeans is causing heat to rise in his abdomen. Briefly, Furihata glances at Akashi. "C-can I?"

Akashi's voice is strained when he replies. "_Yes._"

Before popping the button on Akashi's bottoms, Furihata mouths the awkward protrusion, to which Akashi responds with a yell. "_Hngh! _Do that again!"

Surprisingly, Furihata doesn't oblige, too caught up in his own pace to regard Akashi's pleas. He tugs the zipper down his teeth and forcefully yanks on the jeans along with the underwear that Akashi has. Sure, he's seen male genitals before, but Akashi's evokes a certain emotion within him that is truly the opposite of disgust. Driven by sheer lust, Furihata starts to brush the base of Akashi's manhood with his nose before languidly licking the underside.

"_Hn-ah!_" Akashi throatily gasps. Before he could stop himself, Furihata takes all of Akashi's in his mouth. He is overwhelmed and almost feels like puking, but he doesn't want to let Akashi down. The brunet endures his gag reflex and tries sucking on the tip and lapping on the bitter substance that's steadily seeping from the slit. Akashi's delicious sounds are his rewards, and he can't deny that he seeks _more. _

Brushing the corners of his mouth with his palm, Furihata says, "I'm sorry, Sei, but you can't come yet." Akashi groans shortly after the loss of heat below, but is ultimately silenced by the image of Furihata stripping himself. Never mind that Akashi can't do that for him; he's satisfied to know that he alone can pleasure Akashi. When he has finally rid himself of all his clothes, Furihata positions himself between Akashi's thighs.

"D-do you h-have lube?" Furihata stutters, trembling from anticipation of _finally _making Akashi come undone. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine that _he _would get to have sex with Akashi although with the assistance of liquor. He reminds himself to thank the wine gods later.

He mentally slaps himself. Of course, Akashi wouldn't have lube. He doesn't jack off, and he —

"S...second drawer on the left cabinet," Akashi could barely whisper.

What the actual _fuck. _

All sense of reason spirals down to oblivion. It's the swiftest Furihata has ever moved in his whole life, and not even his record-breaker runs during training can come close to the speed of his arms reaching out for the bottle. Hastily, he pours the cool liquid over his fingers and throbbing erection and ensures the coating is uniform. He takes one final breath — mainly because he is a novice when it comes to these things and he doesn't want to literally be Akashi's pain in the ass.

On impulse, Furihata swoops down and traces the outlines of the hole with his tongue. The gesture elicits a long, drawn moan from Akashi, who raises his hips in encouragement. Furihata has to hold him down firmly.

He slips a finger in.

Akashi, as a mess, is _perfect. _

Accidentally, Furihata hits Akashi's sweet spot dead-on, his curled index finger already a knuckle deep. Akashi shouldn't be this loose, unless he touches himself on a regular basis.

The thought makes Furihata squirmish and hot at the same time.

Furihata doesn't hesitate prodding in a second finger, then, shortly after, a third. Akashi's cries could no longer be muffled whatever method he tries, so he resorts to saying "Kouki, Kouki," over and over again. In the midst of all the activities they have been pursuing in the course of the night, Furihata couldn't help but sense the heat on his cheeks due to the intimacy of Akashi murmuring his given name.

Unable to resist for any longer, Furihata guides the tip of his shaft to Akashi's entrance and pushes all the way through until all he can register are Akashi's constricting insides. "S-sei," he mutters nervously. "A-are you okay?"

Akashi grunts. "_Move._"

"But —"

"I said _move,_" Akashi hisses, reverting to his dominant self for a brief second. Furihata props himself on his hands and devours Akashi's unnoticed neck in time with a thrust. His movements intensify when Akashi wraps his legs around his waist, allowing a better angle. He finds Akashi's prostate again after forcibly pushing for what seems like hours, and it is evident in Akashi's strangled breaths. The noises of skin slapping against skin reverberate in the room.

As Akashi reaches once more for Furihata's neck, Furihata pumps Akashi's manhood in his hand. Through a battle of tongues, Akashi moans — and finally breaks away with a shout when he comes all over Furihata's arms and stomach. Furihata is exhausted by his primal drives but continues to thrust until he, too, releases inside Akashi.

Before he can sink any further after being drained, Furihata pulls out and collapses beside Akashi. He stares at the ceiling and recollects. Akashi's voice is barely audible over pants, but Furihata can recognize the words, "like. You." Akashi promptly turns on his side and drifts off, leaving a tired Furihata to his thoughts.

Furihata realizes what he's done and buries his face in his hands, innocence suddenly returning and shaming himself for taking advantage of Akashi at a time like this. The mental pictures of him banging Akashi without restraint floods his mind without mercy and he has to suppress a scream into a mere blush. "Shitshitshitshit —"

He will be _so _dead tomorrow morning.

* * *

Akashi wakes him up with a cup of tea.

Furihata has already forgotten about the previous night's events, rubbing his eyes and yawning at a stern-looking redhead. He feels bare underneath, and inevitably shrieks once he remembers that the two of them are naked beyond recognition and tattoed with hickeys all over. "IamsosorryAkashi-kun—"

"Hush," Akashi only says, sipping his tea serenely. Even with a blanket draped over his shoulders, he still emanates an afterglow. "First of all, don't use that name with me after violating me. Second, I must apologize for letting a few insolent idiots to slip aphrodisiac into my drink. Third, you're half-erect even at seven."

Furihata lamely attempts to cover the inside of his thighs.

Akashi delicately puts the cup and saucer down on the bedside table. "And fourth, I must say that I might have enjoyed myself immensely."

"I-I—" Furihata mumbles, his ribcage nearly devastated by now. "I apologize. I-it'll never happen again, and we'll just —"

"Oh?" the menace in Akashi's eyes is terrifying and challenging. "I thought that you would take full responsibility."

"Of course I will —"

"Given that I am aware of my blatant confession —"

"— I'll personally erase my memories —"

"— then, I believe, it is only proper for us to commence a romantic relationship," Akashi finishes, and Furihata's jaw slacks off.

"E-_Eh?!_"

Akashi, in spite of his usual lack of expression, snickers at the bewildered Furihata. "Kouki," he says, a little bit more serious this time, to show that he is speaking the truth.

"Did I stutter?"

* * *

**Extra: **

"Wow," Kagami manages to sputter after Furihata's detailed and chronological story of how he and Akashi got past the friendship stage. He's still amazed at Furihata — he wonders if he can ask him for tips on dodging scissors and other possible school supplies that Akashi may use as a deadly weapon. "So, uh —"

"Did you engage in sexual intercourse, Furihata-kun?" Kuroko neglects his vanilla shake for a while to squeeze more out of Furihata, who looks like he is on a hot seat with all of his stutters.

Furihata, to Kagami's shock, fervently nods.

In fact, Kagami chokes on his teriyaki burger. Kuroko pats him silently and refuses to back down from his necessary interrogation. After all, Akashi and Furihata are both of his friends. "Who topped?"

_Duh_, Kagami almost wants to mimic the American girls he previously went to school with. The inexorable fact that Akashi is the aggressive one appears as plain as day.

"I-I did," Furihata murmurs, clasping his hands to prevent the aggravation of their tremors.

Kagami feels the need to excuse himself and go to a doctor. His ears are _really _in a bad shape.

(Un)Fortunately for him, he doesn't have to go through all the trouble because Furihata isn't lying. The brunet has never complained of any pain in his backside.

"How did you...?"

Both Kuroko and Kagami are intent on hearing an answer, eager to know if Furihata's secret in lovemaking can help them in their own as well. Furihata scratches the back of his head and laughs, "A-um, I could have used some of your resources."

Kuroko smiles triumphantly, an out-of-character expression for him, while Kagami visibly reddens and decides to chomp on the remains of his burger instead of basking in the embarrassing atmosphere. Now that all of his dirty secrets with Kuroko are out, he doubts that he still has shreds of his dignity left.

He thinks Kuroko couldn't make the situation worse — he's wrong.

"You're welcome, Furihata-kun," Kuroko says while dipping his hand to the space between Kagami's legs.

_Oh, the little shit. _


End file.
